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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22688449">Tip of the Spear</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Steiner/pseuds/John_Steiner'>John_Steiner</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Horror - Fandom, Science Fiction - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:01:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>596</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22688449</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Steiner/pseuds/John_Steiner</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Overcome by smoke at a plane crash site, Fire Captain Julia Ramirez awakens in a tent hastily erected by a federal agency. Asked about what she witnessed, Julia recounts the site of burned crash victims standing up amid the wreckage and not appearing to be in agony. She tells of paint somehow not burning from the fire, and instead spreading along the ground into the crash victims. Greater forces are at work unknown to Julia or the federal investigator interviewing her.</p>
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</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Tip of the Spear</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Okay," the CDC site manager said, "You approached the scene on foot and then-- what?"</p><p>The last thing Captain Julia Ramirez remembered was being enveloped by smoke. Then, she woke up in a tent that she recognized as belonging to a federal NBCR containment unit. Treated for smoke inhalation and then medically cleared, she was allowed to dress and then walk to another tent to be interviewed.</p><p>"I saw victims of the crash with burns all over, but they were still moving," Captain Ramirez  recalled, the image as searing as when she first laid eyes on the horror.</p><p>"Moving, as in twitching?" the CDC manager asked.</p><p>"No," she shook her head to that. "I've seen burn victims react to pain, or nervous activity stimulated after death. This wasn't it. They rose up calmly. Also, something was wrong with the aircraft body."</p><p>"Beyond the damage from the crash, you mean," the manager said to clarify.</p><p>"Paint doesn’t bubble off and melt like that under those high temperatures," Ramirez said with familiarity of other paint fires. "It drained off the body panels of the plane and oozed across the ground. Those victims who stood appeared to be soaked in the stuff, but then it seemed to disappear under their exposed muscles, what with the skin burned away."</p><p>"You're sure of that?" the manager asked.</p><p>"I know that trauma can affect memory, but yes, I'm certain," Ramirez  insisted while giving the man steady unwavering eye contact.</p><p>"I see," said the manager, seeming to consign himself to something, and then turned to her gravely. "At any point, did you touch them or the plane?"</p><p>"No," Ramirez stated flatly, "I told you, I immediately backed up, not being in proper gear, and controlled the scene. I directed civilians away. Those burned people--, they just stood, watching us. Then the fire started to spread rapidly. Probably the heat grew to where the reserve jet fuel could burn, but that alone wasn't it."</p><p>"Then what happened?" the CDC manager asked.</p><p>"I ordered civilians to evacuate, and brought up the rear," Captain Ramirez said, vividly remembering the rapid spread of fire and smoke. "Then a wave of hot smoke overtook me."</p><p>"Do you think it's possible these burned people were able to physically touch you after you lost consciousness?" the CDC manager stared at at her.</p><p>"I was unconscious, so I can't say what happened," Ramirez pointed out, but then forced a point across. "However, if at dozens of yards from the outer perimeter it's suddenly two hundred degrees Fahrenheit, then the temperature closed to the scene would be too high for human tissue to remain intact, let along for people to survive unexposed like that."</p><p>"You're sure," the manager replied.</p><p>"Not a doubt in my mind, and I've been in the department for sixteen years," Ramirez answered.</p><p>"Okay, thank you," the CDC manager said and stood from his desk to offer his hand.</p><p>Ramirez accepted his hand shake, and had unwittingly doomed the man. For while she didn't know it, one of the burned bodies had in fact touched her after she fell unconscious. The cellular level takeover of her body was only starting, but the nanomachines were now spreading over the CDC manager's hand also.</p><p>Out beyond the Jupiter orbit lurked a probe the size of a small house that spent thousands of years crossing between stars. It had mined out dust and small ice particles from Jupiter's rings to then deploy the first wave of invasive Von Neumann machines to Earth smaller than the unaided eye or optical microscopes could detect.</p>
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